19 hours = 20 seconds

The hard part is over. Whether I make the show or not, I HAD to at least try out for “Deal or No Deal”. Especially after being chosen for Wheel of Fortune last year. They have to pick someone.

Monday night at 6pm, I staked out my spot, with about 30 people in front of me, outside the Hickory Point Mall. With a camping chair, a raincoat, and 8 umbrellas I borrowed from our church, I sat. And positioned my umbrella. And sat. And repositioned my chair and umbrella. And passed out umbrellas to others who needed a larger or functional umbrella. I got on the news, and in the news, and in the news.

The night was full of low temperatures, cold rain, powerful winds, and time spent with people who I wouldn’t normally get to sit down with for long under normal circumstances. It was fun. My father-in-law saved me by giving me a few toe/hand warmers from his store, MC Sports. They really did help me survive the night. My brother-in-law added to the help by delivering some Culver’s and my sleeping bag around 9:30pm…without that meal/warmth, I would’ve been in trouble. My incredible wife made some brownies, and told me to pack a few snacks…but like an idiot I said “I’ll be fine…the less I bring, the better.”

At 5:30am, we were allowed inside without the luxury of our chairs, but with the luxury of HEAT. I was too energized by a night with no sleep, and this new movement towards what was to come, to stay penned in for long. Thankfully, people held my spot, as I walked around trying to find people I knew. More hours passed. Time was near.

Finally, 1pm, the time had come. 10 of us at a time. We were told we had 20 seconds to talk about ourselves, and basically “sell” why we’d be good for the show. I made it through the first round, and waited in a smaller line again. Same thing. New materials were sold. I was allowed to go home.

Is it over? Not sure. I’ve heard even people who get sent home from the first round have been called 2 weeks later. I think I did well…I was myself. Time will tell. In any case, it was a rush, met some great people, and hopefully was used by God a bit in the process of it all.

I’m thankful for a wife who will still allow me to do stupid stuff like this, even though it meant a long night of stuffy noses, cries, and dirty diapers all on her own. Next time she wants to do something crazy…I owe her big.

So shouldn’t they have called you “He WITH the hockey stick?”To be OF something, don’t you have to come from it? of: (used to indicate derivation, origin, or source): a man of good family; the plays of Shakespeare; a piece of cake. I hate journalists. Always trying to sound smarter than they are. Unless you are actually made from a hockey stick, then it makes sense.